The Last Choice
by nigellus
Summary: What was Draco Malfoy thinking the night Dumbledore was killed? What really happened? This is the story of Dumbledore's death from Draco's point of view. ONESHOT COMPLETE


Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I can take credit for none of this. It all belongs to J. K. Rowling. Please don't sue me.

This takes place at the end of Half Blood Prince.

Draco's wand shock as he stared up at the old man. The wizard who he had always thought to be unattainable, constantly beyond his grasp, now stood before him, helpless. He had Dumbledore at his mercy. Everyone had thought that Draco would fail, that he was as good as dead, but he had succeeded. He would be honored above all the Dark Lord's followers. The rest would be nothing compared to him.

Draco felt his head spin as that realization sank in. While sprinting up the winding stone stairs that lead up to the astronomy tower, Draco had not thought that he could defeat Dumbledore. He had not thought his current situation possible. Then again, he had not thought much at all. As he ran through the castle, his mind had been a whirlwind of thoughts, fears, and fervent hopes, each more muddled than the next.

Now those thoughts were gone and his mind painfully clear. He took in the truth of his situation with agonizing lucidity and suddenly wished that it were still obscured with desultory thoughts. But no such distractions came.

He had no excuse to ignore the task before him. For he knew there was no question as to what he must do. The choice had been made months before as he knelt before the tall cloaked figure that had threatened all he held dear.

It was an honor to be assigned the task of killing Dumbledore, Draco reminded himself. This was a chance many would kill for. But then again, they had killed before. He had not. And while the two words that would end Dumbledore's life should have been easy to speak, he could not bring himself to say them.

He knew he had not lost the power of speech, he thought hysterically. His lengthy conversation with Dumbledore had proved that , but he could not form those two words that were so vital to his continued existence. To his father's existence. To his mother's existence. Draco felt himself pale even more, if this were at all possible.

The sweaty hand that held his wand shook a little more as he desperately considered what to do. Dumbledore wanted him to fake his death and go into hiding. He had offered to hide his mother as well. Could he truly turn his back on his world, and side with Dumbledore? Draco's head swam with the possibility. Voldemort had told him he would kill him and his family if he failed. He had gotten this far, but could not finish the task. Dumbledore had handed him a way to save his father.

But no, his father would consider it a betrayal. He could envision Lucius Malfoy's cold grey eyes narrowed in hatred, gazing at him scornfully, his lips twisted into a derisive sneer, his face full of disgust. Yet, if he went with Dumbledore, Draco would not be forced to kill. It was not as easy as his father had made it seem. He would be safe; he would no longer wake in the middle of the night, drenched in cold sweat, after yet another nightmare of having failed the Dark Lord and the inevitable consequences that followed such failure. He would not have to fear for his mother. He could save her.

Draco shook himself. Could he really be at Dumbledore's mercy. The man was a filthy mudblood lover, he reminded himself. No doubt Potter would find out and gloat. Inexplicably, none of this mattered anymore. Petty school rivalries and grudges seemed somehow distant and removed, as if they had happened to someone else. One thought had surfaced in his mind. He did not want to die. Slowly, he lowered his wand.

The door behind him suddenly burst open and Draco was shoved aside. The Death Eaters, Draco concluded, had won. Draco started as he noticed Fenrir Greyback. He gagged as the werewolf moved towards him and the stench of sweat and blood filled his nose. Draco carefully edged away. He was vaguely aware that Dumbledore was speaking. He heard Fenrir's raspy voice reply, but found it impossible to focus on the conversation.

A cold heavy weight had filled his stomach. He had no choice now. Draco shut his eyes and took a deep breath. His eyes sprang open as he heard Dumbledore speak his name.

"—Draco here invited you, of all people, into the school where his friends live."

"I didn't," Draco countered in a strained voice. He had not known that the werewolf would be coming. As much as he may have boasted at Borgin and Burkes', Draco did not feel nearly comfortable enough around the werewolf to count him as a friend. In fact, if he was perfectly candid with himself, which he rarely was, Draco would admit that he was simply terrified of Fenrir Greyback. For some inexplicable reason, it suddenly seemed crucial that Dumbledore understood the situation.

"I didn't know he was going to come—"

"I wouldn't want to miss a trip to Hogwarts, Dumbledore," Greyback's rasping voice cut in. "Not when there are throats to be ripped out…delicious, delicious…"

Revolted, Draco shuddered. He wasn't really going to rip students' throats out, was he? Draco remembered Pansy. She did not know about the attack. She would not be prepared. What if Greyback attacked her? Surely he had orders not to attack students from loyal families, Draco desperately reasoned. Perhaps he would only attack the mudbloods and blood traitors. Draco suddenly envisioned a bloody Hermione Granger and shuddered. The idea made him feel sick. It was only because the mudblood looked even more repulsive than usual with her face ripped up, he told himself. It was not as if he would really mind. He was not quite as certain of this as he ought to have been.

Voices broke through his thoughts.

"Come on, Draco, do it!" He raised his wand, but the shaking was uncontrollable. His throat was now completely dry.

"Now, Draco, quickly!" He could not hold his wand steadily.

"Draco, do it, or stand aside so one of us—" Draco realized that his entire body was shaking. He was sure he was going to vomit at any second. He knew he could not kill Dumbledore and the Dark Lord would torture him, kill him even.

The door burst open and Snape swept into the crowded room. Draco fixed his eyes on the man who he knew would kill the headmaster. He could not even force himself to resent Snape for stealing his glory.

Draco jerked his head towards Dumbledore as the wizard spoke.

"Severus.." Draco wondered incredulously whether the old man was going to beg for his life. Or did he still believe Snape to be on his side?

"Severus…please…" But it was too late for Dumbledore, because Snape raised his wand and did what Draco could not. He saw the green light flash and watched, awestruck, as the man he had always hated, yet seen as indestructible, fell to the ground, never to rise again.

His head filled with a dull buzz, Draco felt Snape push him through the door and down the winding stairway. He was barely aware of the ongoing fray as he and Snape ran through the castle, dodging curses. The events of the night seemed to have passed beyond the realm of reality.

Draco hardly felt the stitch in his side. Snape blasted the front doors open and Draco ducked, narrowly avoiding the splinters that flew his way. They sprinted across the grounds. As he neared the gate, Draco turned to Snape, only to realize that his professor was not there. He spotted Snape some twenty feet away, his wand out facing Potter. At any other time Draco would have fervently wished for Snape to finish Saint Potter off, but the only feeling he could summon up at the moment at the moment was a fear of being caught. Impatience coursed through him as he wondered why couldn't Snape hurry up with the Boy Who Lived and come help him.

Events had spun far out of his control, and he felt absolutely lost. When everyone at Hogwarts discovered that he had initiated the terrible events of that night, they would surely kill him. He had to escape. But where to? The Dark Lord would also want to kill him. He had failed to complete the task.

Snape would help him, he thought desperately. Gone were all thoughts of keeping the potions master at bay and keeping the glory for himself. Only survival mattered. Draco glimpsed that Snape had gotten rid of Potter and was running towards him. He felt his professor push him through the school gate. He grabbed Snape's arm and felt himself apparating away.

As his home of six years vanished and the darkness pressed in from all sides, Draco realized that his fate had been set. He had had a choice on the astronomy tower, when Dumbledore had still been alive. But he had not made up his mind quickly enough, and his choice had been made for him. There was no return to his former life. He knew which path he had to take, but not what it held in store for him.

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